Letter From My Father
by Aelan Greenleaf
Summary: A letter from a father, to his daughter from the stars.


Author: Aelan Greenleaf

Title: Letter From My Father

Category: Angst

Rating: K+

Summary: A letter from a father, to his daughter from the stars.

Spoilers: Terra Prime, These Are The Voyages

Disclaimer: I own none of this.

I was ten years old the day my father died.

A true hero; a blood sacrifice to cement the birth of a new confederation, uniting those who had been hesitant or doubtful to accept that this was truly a grandiose and honorable alliance, and that it would reach way beyond their own, limited lifetimes. The speech, spoken mere days after his courageous demise, by his most trusted friend, is ingrained into my mind forever. Words of wisdom spoken by one who had lost what he held most dear resonated deep in my own alien heart. I found hope within his words that somehow, this was a good thing.

I remember sitting in front of the telescreen of my home, legs crossed in my own customary fashion, completely mesmerized by the images coming across the screen to me. That day, my teachers assured me, would be the cornerstone for everything yet to come. This was history, they reminded me, and we would recall of how we watched it come to pass.

However, even as the former captain of the NX-01 spoke to me from thousands of light-years away, I kept thinking about his friend, my father. Father not in the traditional sense; he did not carry me to term, nor did he teach me how to play _riyol_ as a youngling or walk me to the Learning Hall on my first day of schooling. But he was responsible, albeit unintentionally, for my life, and carried me in the initial stages of my pre-natal existence.

My mother had told me about him as a child, and she expressed no regrets in being truthfully honest about my conception. But she reassured me fully and completely that she truly loved me and had never considered what her life would be like without me. I was instantly curious about this "second father" and took it upon myself to gather as much information as possible about him.

What I found was a heroic and slightly foolhardy man with a natural aptitude for mechanics and quantum physics, and who identified well with other people. With the zeal one would hold for famous celebrities, I followed the adventures of the NX-01 from my small house in a generic town on Xyrilla.

When I was eight, my mother presented to me a letter he had sent when I had been four cycles old. I opened it excitedly, even though it was already several years old and nothing I could do would change anything within it, and ran into my room to read it. I think I expected a document extolling his adventures and achievements, things not unlike what the overzealous media constantly threw at me. What I read however, I know now were thoughts and words that he could not express to anyone else, except for a tiny girl far away on an unfamiliar planet.

Dear Re'lyn,

Your mother wrote to me several years ago to tell me about you. I'm sorry that I've never written you before, but it never seemed appropriate or right. I hope that when you read this, years from now, you'll understand, somehow.

I've written you, because, well, I have no one else to talk to. And, surprisingly, you are unique in being the one person that can somewhat identify with what I am going through. And again, by the time you read this, it will be old news, but I can't help telling you it. My daughter is dead.

Somehow, in a strange way, you've always been to me a daughter. So, I suppose, in a roundabout and very un-scientific sort of way, you two would be sisters. Would have been. Could have been. Even though I knew her for such a short time, part of my heart feels like it's been ripped away. I couldn't save her, T'Pol couldn't save her, Dr. Phlox couldn't save her. However, for all the heartache it caused me, I'm ever grateful for knowing her, and loving her.

I hope you're doing well, Re'lyn. And I'm sorry for this strange letter, but you're the only one I felt comfortable writing to. Thank you for your time, my daughter from the stars. In the words of my Vulcan friend, Live Long and Prosper.

Yours,

Charles Tucker III

Today marks the first day that I've ever visited Earth. I've come, as it were, as part of a diplomatic envoy from my planet to apply for acceptance into the United Federation of Planets. Given permission to explore the city of San Francisco, most of my delegation opted to tour Starfleet headquarters. I, however, chose to remember a fallen hero.

Covered head to toe in my life-sustaining atmospheric suit, I cannot feel the sun on my skin nor the wind at my back, but I know in my heart that this is what humans would call a beautiful day. A simple memorial is what marks my father's grave, but it seems fitting enough. A glance to the tombstone next to him confirms what I have always thought: his daughter's name is etched into the stone carving next to his.

Careful not to trample the numerous bouquets of flowers that still commemorate his grave, I place an envelope next to his tombstone. A letter for my father, sixteen years late, but a letter still the same. I wrote him of the Warp Eight engine, of Admiral Archer's promotion, of Malcolm and Hoshi's second son and of T'Pol's elevation to Ambassador. I wrote him of my own accomplishments, and of my mother. But, most importantly, I wrote to him of the new friendship between all the races of the alliance and how what he had done had changed the galaxy for the better.

I touch my gloved hand to the name etched into the stone, and trace the letters with my finger. "Goodbye, father." I whisper softly.

An electronic beep signals that it is time for me to return to my delegation. Turning away, I know this is my last goodbye to a man I never knew. A final goodbye, from his daughter from the stars.


End file.
